Wake Up
by asheniel
Summary: And now for something entirely different...yes, it's a Lance darkfic, but it's very thought-provoking, in it's own disturbing little way. It'll get you thinking about...people. Yep, us. Scary, isn't it?


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Authors Notes – Hey! Okay, I was dealing with some major shit when I thought of this idea so don't like, tar and feather me, ok? It may be a little hard to understand, cuz I really haven't proofread it or anything because…I don't feel like it and my sister isn't home to do it for me. So! You're stuck with a not-proofread, sickeningly idealistic fic with a psychotic author and nothing to defend yourself except…that little back button on your screen, or many of the other creative ways that you can pretend that this fic never existed…but haha! You're probably too curious right now to stop reading. The song in here is "wake up" by Alanis Morissette, hence the fic title, and I really suggest that you read it, even if you never heard of it, because I think that it helps perceive the meaning of this a lot better. I dunno if this'll be too clear or too obscure because, like I said, I usually have my sister proofread my stuff but…that won't be happening cuz she isn't home. And on one last note, I am Roman Catholic. I know it might seem like I'm trashing God or whatever, but I really am not, I'm just looking from a diff perspective. Also, I dunno if anyone else believes in this, but I make some references to Purgatory (which Catholics believe to be the place-thing between heaven and Hell) So anyway! Keep that in mind. RER!

"Wake Up"

By NHSpartanGal14

Fat crystalline pellets tumbled ruthlessly from a savage gray sky, filling his eyes with their flashing splinters of ice and frost and his ears with their soft glassy plinking as they hit the broken cement. The hail – he had often looked at it as the intermingled tears and sweat of God, all roiled and crushed together into one jagged mess until all of the miniscule atomic vestiges existed no more and a solidified dewdrop fell in its place. Sometimes, when he used to look at the thick blackened heavens, he would almost see God: a majestic being of ghostly wraith, crying and perspiring profusely from the physical exertation and the grief of watching his creation tear itself apart. Then he would shake his head and lower his gaze, and every so often, he would cry as well. For this God, for this world, for all of it's glutted victims. Not just for the fear and the death and the hatred, for those were mere factors of cryptic human nature, but more for the vast ignorance of it all. Yes, the ignorance was the part that had gotten to him in the end. The ignorance was the part that had crusted over his youth and bronzed skin, replacing it with a perpetual combination of numbness and animosity. Maybe it wasn't fair, because he was just as jaded as they were, but he couldn't break through the coarse sheath that layered his worn flesh to feel the compassion to care anymore. His once-fiery brown eyes had glazed over with a strange depletion and so had his heart, so that all he could see or feel anymore was the ignorance. The hail was no longer a mystical abyss of silvery efforts and tire, but simply a solid sheet of cracked stuff that was sent down to blind the God and his people as well from the shit that they were all sunken so deeply in. God – the all-knowing being – was no longer a haggard riddle that had long since shed his gold-embossed garments and rustling wings to expose the wrinkled perspiring flesh beneath, but a stupid old man that sat in a stately goose-feather easy chair, a blindfold wrapped across his eyes and his spindly fingers making no efforts to remove it. Oh no, he would never remove it. He had put it there in the first place. 

And the people – God, the people. They were the worst. Clingy, satirical demons that stickily adhered to the light and the beauty but easily bounced off of the depraved. He hated them the most. Even more than God, even more than himself, they were so ugly, so vile, so superficial that it was all he could do to not jump upon their stooped shoulders every time he saw them and tear out their goddamn hearts. 

He hated them. He hated God. He hated this world, this universe. All semi-consciously drifting in a purposeful sleep, refusing to emerge from the nest of pillows and blankets until the ebony cold had passed. They were sleeping through the torrential bad, awake and thriving through the insignificant good.

_Wake up_, he thought contemptuously, even as he tried to ignore that coppery taste of blood in his mouth, _wake up. Wake the fuck up_.

__

You like snow but only if it's warm you like rain but only if it's dry no sentimental value to the rose that fell on your floor no fundamental excuse for the granted I'm taken for 'cause it's easy not to so much easier not to and what goes around never comes around to you

He often told himself that if any of them had any sense, they would go jump into the river at the first chance they got. They didn't deserve to live – no one on this repulsive plane did. But alas, they were all well and flourishing, and so was he, and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for his health, for his strong arms and thick muscles, for his similar indifference to the world around him. Even when he used to try to just _stop_ pretending, he never could – he had finally concluded that it was part of the United States – or even international Constitution. Freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of – no, _law_ of ignorance. Ever since the beginning of time, starting with Adam and Eve, the world had been a fake. God the Almighty had told those two to leave the Tree of Knowledge alone; to _ignore_ it or bad things were to come. Eve, being the stupid little fool that she was, completely disregarded her Creator and fell for Satan in the form of the serpent and ate the fruit that granted her – and everyone from then on – to live in Purgatory. Because it _was_ Purgatory – a hellish society with heaven just one step above – that they were living in. Some people claimed it was Heaven, others claimed it was Hell, but in truth, it was Purgatory. Heaven was paradise, so this wretched sphere could not be it, with its rancid stench of sex and drugs and fear, and hell was utter Hopelessness and eternal hellfire, and as close as that was to the truth, it wasn't it either. Because there was Hope – or at least there had been. He seriously doubted that it existed anymore, but if it had, at one point – then this couldn't be the everlasting lack thereof. So it was Purgatory. In this inner realm between good and evil, the people were supposed to become purified, become _cleansed_ of their Sins. Supposed to. Not ignorant of the malodor of Sin that tainted the earth, not even more encased in their own immorality. Of course, it wasn't the Sin that quite bothered him, that drove him to the violent edge that he teetered upon right now. It was the _unconditional ignorance of it all_. 

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You like pain but only if it doesn't hurt too much you sit…and you wait…to receive there's an obvious attraction to the path of least resistance in your life there's an obvious aversion no amount of my insistence could make you try tonight 'cause it's easier not to so much easier not to and what goes around never comes around to you to you to you to you to you to you…there's no love no money no thrill anymore

Hordes of impatient people jostled past him in their hurry to get somewhere, which was, in fact, nowhere at all. He wanted to stop, fling up his arms and shout, "stop! Stop, you stupid, ignorant, fucked-up fools! Stop for _once _in your routine, pointless lives to realize something – _it's all fake_!" 

But as much as his recklessness lusted to do so, another part of his wildly differing persona held him back. The part that cheerfully pretended along with the rest of them: the people and God. The part that he so hated, the part that had to die. 

So he shivered and moved on, trying not to bump into too many people for fear of being knocked to his feet and not being able to get back up again. Already, the sharp slicing pain in his chest was threatening to throw him to the unsympathetic hail-splattered concrete below, already the hot scarlet liquid was dripping steadily from the ragged hems of his thin coat, dotting the sidewalk with their dark blots of crimson, then immediately diluting into a pale pink, as if refusing to exist as a spot of what they were for longer than a second. The people shifting past him didn't notice the blood, the way he walked, half-keeled over so as to maybe subdue the pain a miniscule amount. They didn't notice his slow death. Or maybe they just chose to ignore it. 

He almost smiled at that, but his chapped lips were starting to quiver irrationally and trickle with a pathetic concoction of saliva and a spicy metallic fluid. He tried to focus on his steps, on his destination that was nowhere. But he was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate at all, much less on the jerking irregularity of his feet. 

" – unlawful death, injury, emotional trauma – we've got you covered – "

" – Maggie, get back here! Hold my hand – "

He tried to close out the sounds of the species that he so loathed, but he was finding it so hard to _try_ anymore. 

" – I'll meet you at the parking lot – _no_, Mom, I'll be fine – "

" – taking the direct flight there, sir, I'll be there in – "

" – really needs a reality check – "

" –Mother! I'm not gonna get raped in a two-minute walk – "

" – signing tonight, sir, I can guar – "

" – it's hailing like hell! Let's get inside – "

" – I'm serious, he actually thinks that she – "

" – get back here!"

" – I don't like these, Mommy. They hurt my toes – "

" – Unlawful death, inj – no, that doesn't sound – "

" – I'm so fuckin' numb! What – "

" – he needs to wake up! Honestly – "

Unlawful death – injury – emotional trauma – reality – raped – hell – numb – wake up. Wake up. _Wake up_.

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There's an apprehensive naked little trembling boy with his head in his hands there's an underestimated and impatient little girl raising her hand but it's easy not to so much easier not to and what goes around never comes around to you to you to you

He fiercely shoved past the arguing teenagers, tasting bile rising in his throat and upon his tongue. Stumbling drunkenly into a dingy alley between an apartment complex and a shoddy office building, he wretched forward a jumble of his stomach and steaming blood. A feeling of sudden lightheadedness overtook him then, and he collapsed against the acidulous apartment wall, with its toxins of peeling paint and crumbling plaster. He slouched, half-sitting, half-lying, tasting the bitter flavor of liquidated metal gurgling in his trachea and dribbling upon his parched tongue, enjoying the smooth warmness of the brooks of blood that trickled from his wrists, his neck, his abdomen. The pain seemed so faraway now, and he felt himself wavering on the deadly cliff between Heaven and Hell, seemingly undecided as to where he should fall in God's eyes. God – the Almighty, the Surfeited, the All-Knowing, the Blinded. All rolled into one. 

A smile flickered upon his face as thick sanguine fluid leaked from between the sarcastic crevice between his lips. Well, God could decide where he went. He could really care less. As long as the Things that gouged out their own eyes so as to protect their so-called innocence didn't dwell in the same province that he would, he thought that he would be okay. 

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Get up get up get up off of it get up get up get up off of it get out get outta here enough already get up get up get up off of it wake up

And as this clod of contradictory humankind plunged into the fiery kingdom of Hell, as his mangled heart refused to pump the essence of life into his bleeding veins, he summoned the strength to utter two words into the world that ignored his efforts and him, anyway. "Wake…up."

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Authors Notes – Okay, I'm pretty scared as to what kinda reviews I'm gonna get. Please keep the criticism constructive. Honest to God, I don't mind bad stuff as long as it's something other than "this is stupid. Don't ever write again." So….yeah. If you're confused, feel free to email me at Jmchick352@aol.com and I'll help ya out with whatever is going on. Also, keep in mind that I WAS dealing with shit when I wrote this, so that's why it's so…angry. Yeah…review…


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